Look At The Stars
by Romy Katherine
Summary: Or fairy lights, dependent on light pollution.   Future!Fic.  In which there's snow in March, and Blaine has a question.


Title: Look At The Stars [Or fairy lights, dependent on light pollution]

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Shmoop, so much shmoop, which unintentionally led to sexy times (Oh my god, I actually wrote slash), rimming, with a bit of bad language thrown in for good measure.

Spoilers: None

Word count: ~1,700

Summary: Future!Fic. In which there's snow in March, and Blaine has a question.

Author Notes: I think writing declarations of love in extreme weather is my trademark. And also, I've never written sex of any kind before, so please be gentle (but concrit is welcomed).

"Oh my god," Blaine cries. He had been staring out of the window, but now he's running past a bewildered Kurt and down the stairs.

"What? What's wrong? Blaine! What the hell?" Kurt, confused and slightly stunned, follows his boyfriend downstairs.

"It's snowing! Actual snow, not that slushy stuff that melts as soon as it touches the ground, but real, proper snow!" Blaine grins and drapes a scarf around Kurt's neck, pulling on the ends so they're millimetres apart.

"You're like an excited five year old," Kurt giggles, "it's adorable."

"When I was a kid and the TV forecasted snow I would sit by the window in my coat and boots until I saw the first flakes. Then I'd run outside and stay there all afternoon. I kept asking my parents if we could move to Alaska."

They throw on warmer clothes excitedly, pulling on gloves and pairing up odd winter boots. As soon as they're ready Blaine eagerly throws open the front door, running out into the dark garden and the rapidly falling snow. Spinning around, he tips his head back to catch snowflakes on his tongue. Kurt isn't far behind; he steps carefully off the front porch and holds out his gloved hand, watching white flakes settle against soft wool. It isn't long before he can feel his lips tingling with the cold, but Blaine envelopes him in a hug from behind and twists him around until they're face to face and can feel the other's hot breath on their cheeks. Tentatively, Kurt closes the small gap between them and presses his lips against Blaine's, slipping his hands into his boyfriend's back pockets to pull them closer together. Neither of them are sure how long they stand like that, tasting what's become so familiar and trying to share whatever warmth they have, but when they pull away the ground is completely white with a dusting of snow. Kurt turns his head and leans against Blaine's chest, bringing his arms to rest on the other man's shoulders. They both sigh contentedly as the snow comes down heavier.

"This is exactly how I imagined it," Blaine says quietly, breaking the silence.

"Imagined what?" Kurt asks, but Blaine continues as if he hasn't heard.

"It's snowing, and it's just you and me, under the stars-"

"Blaine, we're in the city; you can thank light pollution for the distinct_ lack_ of stars," Kurt interrupts, still wondering where he's going with this. Blaine frowns, glancing around the garden, before pulling Kurt to stand below the nearest tree, draped with Christmas lights (that Blaine still hasn't taken down. "But Kurt, they're so pretty." "Blaine, it's March.").

"This'll do just as well," Blaine grins, but his teeth are chattering now so he goes quicker. "Right, so it's snowing, and everything's romantic and perfect, and you look beautiful so I could happily stand and stare at you forever, but I'm freezing my ass off so you'll have to excuse me if I rush this a little." His eyes, partially hidden behind snowy lashes, are bright with excitement. Kurt watches, confused, as Blaine reaches into his pocket and pulls out something hidden in his palm, but then he drops to one knee and suddenly Kurt doesn't care about how he can't really feel his toes or that the chill is going to make his skin dry. He knows what's coming; he's dreamed about this moment since he was old enough to organise weddings for his Barbie dolls, but he's almost scared to believe it in case he's wrong and is about to be disappointed.

He definitely isn't disappointed.

"Will you, Kurt, the most beautiful, funny, smart, talented, amazing love of my life," Kurt rolls his eyes and Blaine grins, "marry me, a complete dork who sings too many Disney songs and who will always leave laundry on the floor and who cannot function without coffee," Kurt's eyes are wide, and Blaine swallows nervously, "and who loves you more than anything?"

Kurt's planned this moment and his answer a thousand times, and yet can't find his voice. He lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding and nods. "Yes," he whispers. Grinning, Blaine pulls off Kurt's left glove and gently slides the ring onto his finger. Kurt takes Blaine's shaking hands and pulls him to his feet and kisses him again, and it's slow and gentle, both of them taking their time to make this one of the kisses to remember. Blaine's lips trace their way from Kurt's mouth down to his jaw, peppering the pale skin with the lightest of touches round to the sensitive spot behind his fiancé's ear and Kurt moans softly, tangling his fingers in Blaine's curls.

"Kurt?" Blaine whispers. The sound's so quiet that the soprano isn't sure he's heard, what with being preoccupied with the tongue that's tracing circles and sucking bruises into the crease of his shoulder and neck, his scarf lying discarded by his feet.

"Uh huh?" He groans back, having lost the ability to form coherent sentences a few seconds ago.

"While I'm... completely loving... this," he gasps, words punctuated by kisses and nips and bites to the now-red skin, "I'm not sure... our neighbours are so... appreciative. And now I... really can't feel my- shit! Oh god Kurt... fingers- fuck!" Kurt, fully lost in the moment, ignores Blaine and grinds his hard on against the other man. Wary of curtain-twitching neighbours, Blaine reluctantly pulls away and leads Kurt into the house.

Once inside, he's slammed up against the inside of the front door, their roles reversed. Their clothes are on the ground in record time, leaving a trail from the door to the couch (neither of them willing to break contact for long enough to navigate the stairs), where Kurt pushes Blaine down and crawls on top of him. Blaine absentmindedly wonders if they'd drawn the curtains earlier, but the thought is lost as he feels Kurt's soft fingertips tracing skin from his chest down to his inner thighs. He thrusts upwards and widens his legs enough for Kurt to kneel between them, his own hands tight around Kurt's upper arms. His nails are digging crescents into the skin, drawing blood when Kurt leans down to bite and lick at one of his swollen nipples, teasing the other between his fingers. He's completely hard now, his cock throbbing almost painfully as Kurt pays attention to everywhere but between his legs, but Blaine's happy to resort to begging if he doesn't get a freaking move on.

Finally, Kurt straightens up and tells him to turn over, reaching for his wallet to grab a condom and lube, which he leaves on the arm of the couch. He shifts so he's directly behind Blaine and starts trailing kisses from his neck downwards, stroking his hands up and down the smaller man's thighs and ass. He parts Blaine's cheeks and drags his tongue tentatively across his hole, smirking when Blaine shudders beneath him with a moan. He leans forward again, licking and sucking and tracing Blaine's thighs with his fingertips.

"Fuck, Kurt, fuck please-" Blaine gasps, pushing back onto Kurt's tongue.

"What d'you want, baby? Tell me," Kurt whispers, his breath ghosting across Blaine's hole, making him groan louder.

"Shit, Kurt, I need you, please, I need you so bad."

Kurt pulls away reluctantly and twists behind him to grab the condom and lube, throwing the second packet at Blaine. He groans as he slides on the condom, and then Blaine's hand is stroking him, the other buried deep in his hair to pull their lips together. It's messy, a crash of teeth and tongues and hasty breaths, and it's over quicker than they'd like, but Blaine thinks he'll come right now if Kurt doesn't hurry the hell up and _get inside him already_. Kurt pushes him down so he's on his back this time, and squeezes some lube onto his fingers. He traces Blaine's hole, still wet from his tongue, before pushing in two fingers at once, muscle memory taking over since he lost all coherent thought. They're miles away from the fumbling virgins they were the first time, years of practice meaning it's not long before Kurt can slide his fingers out and replace them with the head of his cock. He glances down at Blaine, whose eyes are closed and whose breaths are ragged and laboured. He slowly pushes forward, knuckles white from gripping his fiancé's hips, until he bottoms out, feeling the heat and friction that's completely _Blaine_. They still for a moment, just to breathe and get comfortable, but they've done this so many times it isn't long before Kurt's pulling back and then thrusting forward, fast and hard, needing a release but still wanting it to last forever. They rock together, groans and the slap of skin punctuating the quiet, foreheads pressed together and they're not really kissing anymore, just sharing breaths and 'yes, more's and 'I love you's. Their gasps are becoming more frequent and higher-pitched until they're both shaking and coming and clinging to each other as they rock through their orgasms together. Kurt drops forward onto Blaine's chest and immediately strong arms curl loosely around him. Their chests rise and fall together; in sync. Eventually, they'll have to drag themselves upstairs, clean off and climb into bed, but for now they're content to share this moment, to reflect on what's just happened. Blaine's fingers automatically search out Kurt's and they tangle together, Kurt suddenly becoming aware of the band of metal around his ring finger, which already feels so natural, like it's been there forever. Blaine brings their clasped hands to his lips, and gently kisses each finger in turn.

"I love you", he whispers, tiredly. Kurt snuggles deeper into his side and traces patterns on his chest, loving the way the low light from the lamp catches the silver of the ring.

"I love you too". Yes, they can move later, but right now, wrapped up in each other, there's no hurry.

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><p>Reviews are very welcome :) Thanks for reading xx<p> 


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